My Molly, I Love You
by lelu29
Summary: My very first fic. PWP Pure Sherlolly smut. Read, review and enjoy! I do not own Sherlock.


It was the sudden light in his eyes that stirred him. Squinting, he raised his hand to shield them, when he noticed her silhouette beside his bed.

"Molly?" he said, his eyes adjusting. He pushed himself into a sitting position with his arms, his eyes searching her face. She appeared to be devoid of expression, her eyes staring directly into his, her mouth open slightly. She was wearing a dark green, silken robe that cut off just above her knees, revealing the smooth, pallid skin of her legs. He took into account the snug way it fit with the tie on the side on her hip. _Naked underneath, _he thought, and as if she could read his mind, she grabbed the tie at her side and pulled.

His eyes flicked back to hers. "What-"

"Shh," was all she said as she let the robe slip from her body and fall to the floor around her feet.

Sherlock was astounded, speechless as his eyes roamed over her naked form forwarding a reaction from his body that he hadn't had since he was an adolescent.

She pulled back the covers on the bed and slid in, turning and lifting her right leg over him and planting herself on his lap. "You're naked," she said as she glided her hands up his torso, ending with them framing his face. "I knew you slept naked."

She kissed his lips then, and a bolt of lightning passed through his body. Her lips were so soft, so warm, just like he knew they would be, the pleasure elicited from them almost overwhelming. He lost all capacity to protest as she deepened the kiss, gently meandering her tongue into his mouth and merging it with his. He placed his hands on her smooth back and pulled her closer, felt her warm heat slide along his hardness. He groaned at the sensation. How had he denied himself for so long? The impulse to touch her, to explore her body completely overcame him and he moved his right hand to a breast, tested its firmness gently, and ran his thumb over the taut nipple earning a soft whimper from her.

Molly broke the kiss and threw her head back, her eyes closed, breathing deeply through her open mouth, hands fisted in his hair. Sherlock watched her, amazed, then brought his lips to her neck, discovering that sensitive spot just beneath her ear, licked, sucked, grazed it with his teeth causing Molly to moan aloud. He then left a trail of licked, sucked and grazed skin in his wake down her neck, over her collarbone, and finally to her right breast where he tentatively drew the tip into his mouth, teasing her nipple with his tongue, placating the other with his thumb and forefinger. Molly writhed uncontrollably, gyrating her hips, rubbing her wet center against his silk-sheathed steel.

She needed him now. Right now!

Looking him in his beautiful eyes, she pushed back slightly and took hold of his swollen appendage. Lifting herself, she maneuvered it into position and lowered onto him.

"Ahh yes," she said, closing her eyes briefly before opening them and again gazing into his. In the ambient lamp light, she could scarcely see the blue/green of his irises, for his pupils were completely dilated with his obvious desire, but the look on his face subdued her. Shock? Horror? Amazement?

"You really are a…virgin?" Her voice was throaty and breathless, a concerned look on her face.

"I…yes, Molly," he said, a hint of indignity in the undertones.

Molly was flabbergasted! He was a virgin, and here she was, essentially raping the man.

"I'm so sorry. I…I didn't think the rumors could be true. We can stop," she said, and commenced to lift off of him, only to be held fast by his arms. They locked eyes once more.

"I would prefer to continue, Molly," and his rich tone, laden with desire in this sentence threatened to send her over the peak. They gazed into each other's eyes another moment, then Sherlock cupped her face in his hands.

"Molly," he whispered, his lips skimming over hers. It was a plea. A request. An unequivocally primal need he never thought he had. "Make love to me, Molly."

He captured her mouth with his, ferociously, passionately, exquisitely, with no disdain, his need for her seemingly innate. How had he not known that he wanted her so badly?

She began to move deliberately, and the sensation nearly blew his mind. His breathing became harsh and uneven as they broke the kiss and locked eyes yet again. She picked up the pace and Sherlock briskly inhaled through his teeth. He grasped her hips to hold her in place. She felt him moving with her, thrusting as she came down, withdrawing as she went up and it was so much better than she had ever dreamed. That familiar, yet foreign feeling began to develop in her center filling her like molten lava, encompassing every nerve, every follicle, every nook and cranny of her body. She realized that it had never been so intense with the others and she knew why that was. They weren't him. They weren't her Sherlock, the man she loved. The man she would always love, in every way, shape and form, in every lifetime and for all eternity.

Suddenly Sherlock flipped them over so that he was on top of her, still inside her. His hands were on either side of her head, holding himself up. Her legs wrapped around his waist involuntarily and she crossed her feet. Sherlock lowered himself to his elbows and they kissed tenderly, still watching each other, as he pushed inside and pulled out so slowly, delicately, lovingly, instinctively doing what his body demanded. He traced kisses along her jaw, suckled on her ear lobe, made his way down her neck, over her jugular vein where he felt her racing heartbeat on his lips and tongue, thrusting faster and faster. He took in her every breath, every moan of pleasure and stored it in his mind along with the sweet taste of her soft skin, the intoxicating smell of her perfume, the way she trembled under his touch, and he knew he could not live without her.

Molly cradled his head when he buried it between her neck and shoulder. She was dangerously close to the edge, the lava drawing back to her center into a concentrated ball of fire and then shattering into infinite shards, lodging themselves in every pore.

"Sherlock!" she called out as her body quavered in release, her core contracting and pulsing over Sherlock's manhood, milking him.

Sherlock let out a loud cry as his own release surged and shook him, his head still buried in her neck. "Oh God, Molly!" he bellowed as he convulsed and the last of his essence was spent inside her.

After a moment, when their breathing and heartbeats slowed to normal, Sherlock lifted his head, caught her eyes, and they kissed each other again, Molly running her fingers through his hair. He eased himself off of her and lay down beside her, drawing her to his side. She rested her head on his chest.

"That was…not at all how I imagined it to be," he said.

"Is that good or bad?" she asked a hint of humor in her voice.

"It's good, obviously. I just…suffice it to say that that was immeasurably more…satisfactory."

Molly only murmured a response, sleep quickly overtaking her.

"Molly?"

"Mmm?"

"I would very much like to do this again. Would that be agreeable to you?"

"Absolutely, Sherlock," Molly answered sleepily.

A few moments later she was fast asleep while Sherlock held her firmly in his arms. He glanced down at her beautiful face, chiding himself for being a coward, for even though she slept, he fought for the courage to say the words that kept mulling through his mind. But ultimately he won the battle.

He whispered into her hair…

"My Molly, I love you."


End file.
